


Say My Name

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, name kink, oblivious Jesse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23672269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Five memorable times Hanzo said McCree's name and the one time he called him Jesse.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 8
Kudos: 280





	Say My Name

Forgiveness is a funny thing. McCree knows about redemption, making something of himself from the ashes of his mistakes. He knows retribution and the unsatisfying hunger that’s left when the dust settles. But forgiveness? Forgiveness could be thrown in the trash, exploited, and disrespected. Forgiveness could not be given with a bullet to the skull. For all of McCree’s life, forgiveness is a concept lost to him.

So when Genji says he’d forgiven his brother, McCree is skeptical. Genji had come a long way since his angry, single minded Blackwatch days. He wouldn’t put it past the cyborg ninja to have truly forgiven his brother. What worries him is how Hanzo might react to the forgiveness. McCree is in no place to judge what someone could atone for but it seemed like a big ask. 

The older Shimada is brought to Watchpoint Gibraltar with little fanfare. They desperately need the hands, even if those hands are stained with blood. No one is particularly thrilled with the decision so Hanzo Shimada isn’t welcomed but is not rejected. 

Genji’s initial introductions are met with stilted apathy from both parties. McCree watches the interactions from the other side of the cargo hold. Hanzo’s body language gives little away as he bows curtly to Lena. Lena returns the frigid greeting as she sized up the archer. Her usual friendly nature is tempered by the reality of the situation; this is a brother-maiming assassin joining the good guys. Her discomfort with the idea is plainly written on her face despite trying to remain cordial. 

McCree snorts. Wonder what she thinks of him. 

The two brothers make their way to McCree. Genji has a determined set to his shoulders as they approach and McCree finally got a good look at Hanzo. He has two thoughts as his eyes scanned over the assassin’s face. First, Hanzo is definitely weighed down by the gravity of Genji’s forgiveness and second, he had no busy being so pretty. 

“Howdy.” McCree drawls as the two stop in front of him. 

“McCree, hello.” Genji says, voice sharp and synthesized. “I wanted to introduce you to my brother.”

Hanzo’s pretty stone face does not flinch from its scowl. How many times have they done this today?

“You don’t say.” McCree says as if there is any doubt who the second man is. “Read your file Shimada, heard yer a good shot. Hope we can count on that in the field.” 

McCree sticks his hand out. An offer. A test.

Hanzo looks at the outstretched hand as if it offends him. He locks eyes with McCree for a brief second. Stormy dark grey, beautiful like the rest of him. He looks to Genji.

“ _ Don’t be rude. _ ” They cyborg ninja mutters in Japanese. Been some time since McCree heard the language but he is able to pick up the gist of the whisper. 

Genji’s forgiveness grows heavier on Hanzo’s back as the elder finally returns the handshake. 

“Nice to meet ya.”

“Likewise McCree.” Hanzo says, lying through his teeth. 

* * *

Despite all looks and appearances, McCree is competent. Once upon a time, he was the best agent Blackwatch had to offer. He was the protege of the legendary Gabriel Reyes; you don’t work with a hard ass like Gabe without picking up a few skills. 

And Hanzo hates him for it. 

McCree knows it burns the archer up that the cowboy is a fit combatant. That doesn’t stop him from finding little ways to undercut the gunslinger. Hanzo never says much, barely speaking to anyone but his brother if necessary, but instead speaks through action. If McCree missed a target on a mission, a single arrow would fly through the sky and hit dead center. If McCree struggled to make it to the objective in time, Hanzo would descend from his sniper perch to clear the area with swirling twin dragons. Missions with Hanzo forces him to bring his best to every assignment because he knows the archer would dutifully clean up any loose ends. 

“We must retreat.” Mercy says gruffly into the comm. 

The team is stretched razor thin across the Busan hyper-train station. ATHENA intercepted a transmission showing a Null Sector insurgent cell intended to invade the bustling city. To respond quickly, Winston deployed a six man team who landed right before there were civilian casualties. D.Va led the charge, enraged that her home town is under attack. Clearing the first wave was deceptively easy and the team quickly went from having the confident upper hand to overwhelmed by the sheer number of the insurgent cell.

“Never retreat!” Reinhardt screams, his rocket hammer slams into a blotted purple mechanical body. 

“We might need to regroup…” Brigitte replies as she throws an armor packet to Mercy who flies above healing D.Va through her mech. 

“I can’t leave my home!” The pop star absorbs the shots from a turret before using her defensive missiles in response. As the torrent drops to the ground, the weapon gradually starts to rebuild itself. “ _ Damnit! _ ”

“ETA on MEKA?” Mercy askes, exhaustion clear in her voice as she pulls out her pistol.

“ _ The other MEKA pilots are fighting similar forces in Seoul. _ ” ATHENA chimes throughout the comms link. “ _ Reinforcements would not be able to respond any time soon. Satellite data shows there is a regeneration cell behind a barrier that is controlling Null Sector’s ability to reform. Sending details to the ocular feed. _ ”

McCree quickly shifts through the data as he puts two bullets into the side of a bipedal drone. The machine whirls as the second bullet pierces through its shields to the core. It drops to the floor to slowly rebuild. The regeneration cell is about a quarter mile away from the station turned battle field. 

“I could get to it.”

“McCree that’s too risk-AH!” Mercy shouts. Another turret perched atop the movie theater shot her in the shoulder. The medic drops a few dozen feet but stays aloft. Hanzo takes aim from his spot on an opposite building and broke the turret in half with a flurry of arrows. 

“Don’t got much of an option.” McCree replies. “Brig, armor me.” He rushes from the safety of the flank to the open field. The engineer throws an armor pack onto his torso from near the tracks. The additional covering slams into his chest and snaps around his torso. The cowboy reloads and takes off into the fray.

“Hanzo, cover me.”

“Listen to Dr. Ziegler. We must fall back and regroup.” The sniper snaps.

“Heh, ain’t up for the challenge archer?” McCree taunts as he pushes his body to its limits. He is sure his side is bleeding from a turret shot but Mercy needed to focus on keeping Reinhardt up. There is no time for anything but action.

“Idiot.” But the arrows rain down accordingly, hitting their mark as McCree weaves through the crowd of soulless, faceless robots. 

His gun always felt as though it was an extension of his body but now in the heat of battle it is truly weightless. He reloads and fans the hammer over and over again as he plows his way through the omnics. There is no other way but forward, no other way but through. He feels the additional armor plating chip away and he uses his robotic arm to deflect shots aimed for his skull. The roar of the machines deafen everything but the pound of his heart. By the time he arrives at the shielded generator, his body ached. 

“D.Va get that bomb of yers ready.”

“I can’t self destruct with you so close!” She yells from somewhere behind him. 

“I know, just get ready!” 

McCree pumps bullet after bullet into the shield, feeling the pressure build behind his right eye. Null Sector omnics starts turning their attention to him. Another bipedal omnic shot a laser at him, scorching the metal of his arm and blasting into his side. Before it could take another shot a barrage of arrows topples it over.

“Keep it up archer.” He mutters as he straightened himself out.

“My barrier won’t last!” Reinhardt roars. 

“My barrier is broken!” Brigitte adds. 

“Defense matrix is burnt out.” 

There is a familiar heat behind his eye as Deadeye prepares itself. The burning, fueled by the urgency of the situation, rips from his optic nerve to his cornea. 

“ _ It’s high noon. _ ” 

Six shots ring out of the rumble of the battle. The blue shield around the regenerator finally crumbles to expose the vulnerable heart. 

“D.Va now!” McCree yells as he dives behind the hulking carcass of an omnic with five arrows lodged into its core. 

“Nerf this!”

For a split second, McCree wonders if the body of the omnic he’s behind is strong enough to withstand the blast. 

~

The ride back on the orca is quiet with exhaustion but satisfied from success. After the regenerative core exploded, Null Sector’s forces were severely hampered. The six of them were able to clear the entire area and waited an additional hour in the wreckage of the train station for the orca to arrive. When they landed, the few agents left on the base cheered for a job well done. Mercy delivered the mission summary in a soft, tired voice hoarse from screaming. 

“We wouldn’t have been able to do it if McCree didn’t take that risk and focus down the barrier.”

She concludes with a worn out smile. 

“Aye, he fought with bravery few could muster.” Reinhardt says, still trapped in his dented armor. He puts a heavy hand on McCree’s shoulder. A warrior’s gesture of gratitude. McCree hates how much he soaks up the words of praise. Working alone for so long meant thank yous were few and far between. If a bit of well earned praise warmed his heart, well then that’s his business. 

“Hey now, it was a team effort. Miss Hana’s bomb did most of the dirty work.”

“Bomb wouldn’t have gone through without you breaking the shield.” Hana replies between sips of a sugary energy drink. 

The meeting ends soon after and the agents went to lick their wounds and relish in the buzz of a hard won battle. 

“McCree.” a voice calls from behind him. McCree turns to face the archer. 

“I know, I missed a shot or two.”

“No. Your performance is adequate today. You exceeded expectations.” He states simply before walking in the opposite direction.

The cowboy watches the archer disappear into the hallways, his heart skipping around in his chest. . 

* * *

After the mission in Busan, Hanzo and McCree became...something. The cowboy wouldn’t say they were friends but the animosity faded. Hanzo no longer ignored him in passing and instead gave short nods of acknowledgement when they saw each other in the hallway. Sometimes the two would just happen onto the loading dock at the same time, McCree to smoke and Hanzo to brood. They would sit in silence and watch the rolling waves down below. They weren’t friends but maybe chummy? McCree didn’t like to think too hard about it. 

McCree doesn’t like to think about many things but on nights like this, all he could do is think. He holds his coffee mug full of whiskey like a lifeline. He isn’t sure what caused his thoughts to spiral. One minute he’s getting ready for bed and the next all he can think about are his failures. He couldn’t save Blackwatch, he couldn’t save Gabe or Ana. What has he really ever done right? His life is longer than he deserved and what had he made of it? 

Reaper’s ghostly voice haunts him. 

_ Ingrate. _

Another swig of whiskey. 

He had chance after chance. Chances many who grew up like he never had. Had he was ted it all?

Someone pried the mug from his fingers and replaced it with a glass of water. McCree looks up to see Hanzo clearing away his dish and dumping the rest of his whiskey down the drain. The communal kitchen is usually empty at this hour but he should have known Hanzo would be up.

“Hey, I was drinking that.”

“Now you are drinking this.” Hanzo says simply. The archer took a seat across from the table with his own glass of water.

The two of them sit in silence like they’ve done a dozen times now. McCree isn’t in a particularly sharing mood and Hanzo does not seem to be interested in listening. The room is quiet while McCree slowly sobered up. He looks up to see Hanzo reading something off his holo-pad. McCree studies the contours of his face, the elegant slope of his nose and the firm set lines of his soft lips. 

“Drink your water.” Hanzo orders without looking up, unbothered by McCree’s roaming eyes. 

“Yes sir.”

McCree takes a gulp of water and his body remembers how much he needs something other than alcohol. He took another big sip then a third and finished the glass. The water cools the swirling thoughts in his head. The panic he didn’t know he was experiencing subsides. The haunt of Reaper’s chilled voice seems further away. 

Hanzo doesn’t leave the table as McCree gets up to refill his glass. His presence is surprisingly calming as McCree sips at his second drink. They don’t attempt to struggle through conversation but instead enjoy each other’s wordless company. McCree lights a cigarillo to further calm his frayed nerves. After an hour and two smoked cigars, the gunslinger is hit with a wave of fatigue.

“I best be hitting the sack. Get in a few hours before our briefing.”

Hanzo finally looks up from whatever he is reading. He’s eyes are clear and dark and gentle in a way McCree has never seen. 

“Get some rest, partner.” McCree finishes, a thank you dying on his tongue. 

“Good night, McCree.”

As he makes his way back to his dorm, McCree attempts to decipher every tone and inflection of the sentence. 

* * *

It’s been a year since Hanzo joined Overwatch. It was tremotuous to say the least but over the last few months the weight of Genji’s forgiveness must have done something. McCree watched as Hanzo slowly but surely came out of his cold, mean shell.

“Hanzo, this is incredible!” Mei says, marveling at the pristine lines of her nails. 

The archer smiled at the praise. McCree pretends not to notice the scene unfold from his seat on the couch. Hanzo’s large hand holds Mei’s fingers with a delicate touch. He focuses on his painting with the single minded determination often seen on the battlefield.

“Do not move.” He warns as he puts down the blue and picks up the white. “I am almost finished.” 

With a final firm stroke, Hanzo finishes his job. The scientist holds up her tiny hand to stare at the clean blue and white nail design. While McCree doesn’t have an eye for cosmetics, he knows the results are admirable. He wonders how Hanzo got the white line to be so unnervingly symmetrical. 

“How did you learn to do this?” 

“When we were younger, Genji would always ask for me to do his nails. Our father only allowed solid, neutral colors but we found clever workarounds.”

An honest memory, given freely, not marred by pain or regret. McCree cherishes the small pieces of information gathered about Hanzo and his past; things that are more interesting than any file could not ever tell him. Hanzo has a sweet tooth a mile wide, he loves the electricity of a summer storm, he could do advanced geometry in his head. Little pieces of information that make the archer more a man and less a sulking shadow. As the conversation shifts away from this honest memory, McCree is left in awe at the moment of openness from the archer. 

Mei soon leaves the common space to show off her finely decorated nails to the other agents, leaving McCree alone with Hanzo. The archer cleans up his work station with a small smile on his face. 

“Pretty handy with that brush.” McCree comments. The western movie marathon he claimed to have been watching had been long forgotten.

“One of my lesser known talents.” Hanzo says. He eyes the leftover bottles of polish with yearning. 

“Gonna gussy yourself up?” McCree jokes as he watches Hanzo with a curious, burning eye. Hanzo’s rough hands offset by an exquisite red paint would definitely be a sight. 

Hanzo toys with the bottles of nail paint pensively. 

“What do you think of my...look?” He asks before looking up at the cowboy. 

McCree has to stop himself from laughing. His look? The gunslinger reigns in the first few thoughts that come to mind about Hanzo’s “looks”. The man must already know that he’s sculpted like a Greek statue with wide sturdy shoulders and sharp, narrow hips. McCree supposes that Hanzo’s dress is too simple to be considered fashionable. The older Shimada stayed with muted blues and traditional clothing but McCree can’t deny its efficiency. 

“You fishin for compliments Shimada?” McCree replies, half joking again to hide...whatever it is he’s feeling. 

Hanzo chuckles softly at the jab. 

“Never but I do feel as though I am looking more and more like my father.”

“That a bad thing?” McCree doesn’t know much about Shimada Sojiro beyond the bits and pieces shared over late night alcohol. The man is a stern and fearless leader but doted on his second born son. How Hanzo tells it, Sojiro was a lot harder on him because he would take over the clan. 

Hanzo pauses for a minute and mulls over the question. 

“No. But I wish to look like me.”

“And what does Hanzo Shimada look like?”

Another pause. 

“I am unsure.”

“Well,” McCree drawls. “Life’s too short to be doin anything else but being you.” 

Hanzo laughs at the advice.

“Sage cowboy wisdom?”

“Yup. Why do ya think I wear this damn hat everywhere?” Jesse patted the seat next to him. “Enough philosophisin. Come and watch a classic with me.”

Hanzo snorts and walks around to the couch, polish forgotten. He sits right next to McCree, close enough that the cowboy could smell the archer’s cologne. A few compliments and dirty comments cross his mind but McCree decides not to test the trust placed in him. It was only recently Hanzo began to let down his guard and sit closer than arm’s length. One wrong remark could send the archer reeling back, taking his warmth with him. 

“Only because I have nothing more pressing.” Hanzo replies primly with a sly look in his eye. 

“Of course.” McCree says smirking. He spends much of the movie stealing glances at Hanzo’s look.

~

Genji runs up to McCree as the cowboy enjoys a smoke while reviewing the last mission report. The ninja’s mask is off and his face is practically giddy. 

“Have you seen my brother?” 

“Nah, haven’t seen him since mornin.” McCree responds, trying to keep his tone casual. Hanzo briefly mentioned at their morning training that he would be going into Gibraltar proper to buy a few supplies. 

Genji grins like a cheshire cat at the information. 

“Please, I implore you to go see him.”

“Why? He ain’t hurt is he?” 

“No but you might find his new look...interesting.”

Oh God. Several different hypotheses cycle through his head as he walks with Genji to the common area. What could Hanzo have done to himself? How far is he willing to go to avoid looking like his father?

“-painful as it looks.” Hanzo’s voice drifted out of the kitchen. 

Nothing could prepare McCree for what he saw. 

Hanzo’s makeover is heartstopping. He had shaved the greying sides of his head in a clean undercut. The top length of his hair is down from its usually top knot and flipped to one side. Hanzo had also gotten his nose bridge pierced with a silver rod. Both ear lobes were pierced as well as an industrial in his right ear. The whole look gives him a more youthful appearance but retains his intimidating aura.

Goddamn it’s hot. 

Hanzo turns from Bridgette, Lucio, and Hana to look at McCree. The bastard had the nerve to smirk. Hanzo  _ knows  _ he looked good. 

“McCree, what do you think?”

McCree bit a crude comment and struggled to find the right words. 

“A major improvement am I right?” Hana cut in, breaking the tension that threatened to build. “McCree you next.”

“Hey now, I don’t need some fancy haircut, I’m roguishly handsome just the way I am.” McCree says, rubbing a hand over his unshaven bread.

“I hope Hanzo’s new look inspires everyone to come into  _ this  _ century.” Lucio added with a playful smile. The conversation shifted but McCree could feel those storming eyes rage across his skin. 

* * *

McCree spent the holidays alone. Always had and always will. Even during the happier days of Blackwatch, McCree spent Christmas to New Years alone whenever he could. He resigned himself to the fact that the holidays could never be a time of merriment ever again. It wasn’t much of a sacrifice, the rest of his year ranged from pretty good to could be worse. He was fine with wallowing in faded memories, getting drunk, and being alone. 

So that made this disruption in his normal routine more than strange. 

Hanzo asked McCree to accompany him to Japan for the holidays. Genji was gone with Zenyatta for winter solstice until the new year, leaving Hanzo alone. Hanzo suggested as the two lone agents left on base, they go off together. 

“With the rise in Overwatch’s popularity, it’s safer to go out in numbers.” Hanzo reasoned over a cup of sweetened tea. 

“I can take care of myself darlin.”

“I know,” Hanzo said sincerely. He peered deeply into McCree’s eyes and the cowboy felt hot under the collar. “But you no longer have to. Stop being stubborn and come to Japan with me.”

The last part sounded more like an order than a request and McCree is starting to guess that Hanzo knew he had trouble saying no to the archer. 

“Fine but when I prove to be bad company, yer stuck with me.” 

~

McCree could not remember the last time he had so much fun on New Years. The past holidays all melded together into one drunken haze. The past few days have been something just short of magical. Hanzo showed McCree around Yoshinoyama, a mountainous village close to Hanamura. While the town is known for its beautiful cherry blossoms, the snowy landscape is also beautiful. The sights were immaculate and McCree had a good time hiking through the winter trails with Hanzo. They visited ancient Shinto shrines where he learned that Hanzo still practiced the religion of his mother. They spent their days exploring the mountain and the local business, surprised by but grateful for their patronage. Tomorrow morning they would take the train back to Tokyo and fly back to Gibraltar but tonight they feasted on local delicacies and what Hanzo called a christmas cake. 

“I can’t eat another slice.” McCree says, leaning back against the wall and patting his stomach. 

“More for me.” Hanzo says as he cuts a small slice of cake. By McCree’s count that is his third piece.

“How do you manage to stay so trim with all the sugary shit you inhale.”

“Metabolism.” Hanzo says, lying through his teeth. 

There is a moment’s silence as McCree watches Hanzo clear his plate. He hasn’t been so satisfied in a long time and it is all thanks to Hanzo. The archer is more than good company and the days seemed to fly by. Every time his mind drifted to dark places and his throat burned with a thirst only alcohol could quench, Hanzo is there to recapture his attention. Hanzo felt like a guiding light in a dark room, something for McCree to cling to. The first day he felt pathetic for leaning on the archer. How soft had he gotten? But soon it felt good to rely on Hanzo for support. The gunslinger has been running from his problems for so long and being with Hanzo felt like a respite from his own damage. McCree is sure this would spoil him. Soon they would return back to the base and the warmth of Hanzo’s support would be gone. 

“I’m glad I came.” McCree says slowly, revealing his hand slightly. 

“I am always right.”

“What about that time in Ilios?” McCree laughs. “I’m sure Lucio would beg to different.”

“A rare mistake.” Hanzo replies with a smirk.

A beat of silence.

“Pity we have to go back but this trip is worth it.” 

“Better than drinking yourself to death in Dorado.”

Another silence but this time the energy is different. Hanzo seems more buoyant in his home country. His smiles are more genuine, his laughter crystal clear. McCree wants him to be this happy back on base.

McCree sighs and closes his eyes. No use in getting wishful. Hanzo is being kind because he finally found a friend in McCree and McCree had complicated this by falling in love.

“Can I kiss you?” Hanzo asks.

McCree’s eyes snap open. 

“Excuse me?”

“Can. I. Kiss. You?” Hanzo asks again. While McCree’s eyes were closed Hanzo had crawled from his position across from him to directly next to him. 

“Why uh--why would you-” McCree’s brain stutters to a stop, failing to process the rapidly shifting information.

“I invite you to a romantic vacation in a secluded village and you wonder why I would want to kiss you. Is that correct?” He asks patiently as if he’s been waiting for McCree to pick up on some hidden clues.

“This is …How is I supposed to know that...this is…”

Hanzo leans in closer, their faces inches apart. McCree could smell the sweet cream on his lips and the sake on his tongue. 

“McCree,” Hanzo whispered, his breath ghosting across his lips. “Can I kiss you?”

All the little moments that McCree has overlooked. The touches he had ignored. The looks he had written off. God, he is an idiot.

“God, I’m an idiot.”

Hanzo snorts.

“I have told you plenty of times.”

McCree reaches out to touch the side of Hanzo’s face and the archer preened into the touch. 

“May I?” The gunslinger asks as he cranked his neck down.

“I do not know how to be any clearer at this point.”

Their lips meet and the darkness that creeps at the edges of his mind finally vanishes. 

* * *

“Hurry…”

Hanzo’s hands are greedy, scouring McCree’s body as if searching for something golden. His hands land in McCree’s shaggy hair to pull their mouths together. The kiss is messy and desperate but not harsh. The archer is a pleasing weight in his lap. He rolled his hips to feel the sweet friction between them. 

“Whatever you want. Tell me and I’ll do it.” McCree slurs, drunk on Hanzo. His words are pressed into the scant space between their lips. 

“I want you to touch me.” Hanzo replies before bringing their lips together.

McCree finally settles his mechanical hand on the archer’s firm ass and brings his other to fumble with the band of Hanzo’s waist band. The gunslinger grips Hanzo’s length in a firm grasp causing the archer to squirm and gasp. While the idea of toying with Hanzo and torturously drawing out this moment is tempting, McCree had waited for this moment for far too long. He pulls out the archer’s cock and begins to stroke.

“McCree!” Hanzo moans without shame. 

A hot shock shoots through McCree. His name never sounded so delicious, so appealing. His grip tightens as Hanzo’s nails rake down his back. 

“Say my name sweet heart, I wanna hear ya.”

“...McCree.” Hanzo whispered, eyes shut with pleasure. He pumps his hip into the rough vice of McCree’s hands. 

“No say  _ my name _ .” McCree mutters sharply. He thumbs at Hanzo’s foreskin persistently. 

“Jesse.” Hanzo pants wetly against Jesse’s mouth. 

Jesse felt as though he might pop. His hand moved furiously as all his focus coalesced on making Hanzo scream his name. His own cock aches in his pants but he lacked the will to do anything about it. All he could think about is doing right by Hanzo. 

“Jesse please, more.” 

Sweetness drips from those two syllables. When Jesse peers up from his working hand to see the face of ecstasy. Hanzo is sweat slick and flushed. The usually calm demeanor is broken  _ because of Jesse _ . It is all too much and as Hanzo broke into his orgasm, Jesse feels his own pants dampen with release. 

The two collapse back onto the bed. 

“Did you…?” Hanzo asks, looking down between them.

“Yeah.” Jesse finishes. He is too relaxed to feel shame and he dared any man to see Hanzo in the throes of passion and not come untouched. 

“I feel...indebted.” Hanzo says. He peels off his ruined shirt to reveal his broad, chiseled chest. 

“Well there’s plenty of time to return the favor.” The cowboy replied. He trailed his hands up the exposed body and his cock twitched. “Plenty of time.”

“Alright...Jesse.” Hanzo smirks, clearly privy to the cowboy’s new found kink. 

“Don’t hold it against me darlin.”

The two met again in another kiss, Jesse’s name dancing on Hanzo’s lips.


End file.
